


Heav'n hath no rage like love to hatred turn'd

by WhirlyBot



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, idk this is bittersweet, its basically the storyline they both deserve, set after 3x14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9553595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhirlyBot/pseuds/WhirlyBot
Summary: Who is the King of Gotham now?





	

Oswald Cobblepot is dead.

Ed can hardly believe it's real. He stares for hours into the red-stained waters, haunted by the memory of Oswald reaching out for him. 

_Old friend, bitter enemy, what have I done?_

He stands at the docks until night falls, and the cold sets in. His teeth chatter, the dark green suit he wears doing little to protect him from the temperature.

It is almost a relief. If the bullet didn't kill Oswald, surely the hypothermia would have fixed that error quickly. Edward Nygma doesn't make mistakes.

When he leaves, something breaks. There's nothing left for him here. 

_Unless..._

Unless he creates it himself.

Gotham doesn't need a mayor. It doesn't need a police force or masked vigilantes. What it needs is a visionary, someone who has the brains and ability to put themself above all others. 

Someone who won't let love destroy them.

_Heaven hath no rage..._

The Riddler is created in chaos.

It's a horrendous, gorgeous chaos, artfully crafted and set loose in the city.

After he manages to chase off Barbara's little trio, gathering allies is easy. Arkham is a glorious cesspool of people eager to help destroy order.

Even valiant Jim Gordon is no match for the mayhem of the Riddler's brilliance.

His green-gloved hand shapes the city into his ideal, and he laughs.

|||

When the Penguin rises, he rises with a vengeance. He rises with Fish Mooney and her mutated freaks, all thirsting for blood.

A good chunk of the Riddler's most useful pawns are gone within two days of his return.

The GCPD is useless anyway, and their attempts to quell the rising gang war are pathetic. Jim Gordon, somehow, has been made aware of the bitter history between the Penguin and the Riddler, and only intervenes when lives of innocent citizens are on the line. He is wise enough to know that this is a grudge match.

The Riddler watches his empire die, crushed under the heel of Fish Mooney's greatest creation. He knows there's no point in hiding, so he waits.

_Heaven hath no rage like love to hatred turned._

The confrontation takes place on the docks, the same place Oswald Cobblepot died five years ago. It's raining again, but this time neither of them shed tears.

The Riddler notices that Penguin has added a monocle to his classic ensemble, and represses the urge to ask about _that_ particular accessory.

"Any last words?" Penguin's smirk is betrayed only by the smallest of eye twitches. The hand that grasps the gun trembles almost imperceptibly.

Almost.

The Riddler stares at his old friend and smiles. 

"Took you long enough."

Penguin grabs him by his bright green tie, pulls him closer, and _snarls._

_Oh, the beauty of parallels,_ the Riddler thinks. "Are you going to shoot me, or do I have to do it again?"

Penguin yanks him down to his level, holds him close enough to kiss, and whispers:

"Fuck you, Edward Nygma."

|||

Inexplicably, they coexist.

It takes three years for them to stop shooting at each other every time they cross paths.

The Riddler is surprised at how the spark of hatred has fizzled down to a reluctant tolerance. Now when they see each other, there is simply an argument, one threatens the other with a weapon, and they go their separate ways unharmed.

One more year, and Penguin has defeated Fish Mooney once again. She's disappeared with her mutant clan, most likely plotting her return.

(When she does, she will fail)

This development, of course, leaves an empty throne.

Who is the King of Gotham now?

The Riddler knows they are evenly matched. Their gangs (organizations, he prefers to call them) are both strong, both intelligent. They are at a stalemate.

So one day, he proposes a alliance.

Penguin's answer is predictable. "You must be joking." He glances at the Riddler's outstretched hand disdainfully. "Get out before I decide to gut you."

"You said it yourself. Penguin and Riddler. There cannot be one without the other. Am I right, Oswald?"

The pleasure of throwing his rival's words back at him is almost worth taking a bullet in the stomach.

_But not quite,_ the Riddler thinks, as he collapses to the floor.

Penguin stares down at him, eyes blazing with rage. "You lost the right to call me by that name a long time ago."

He does not look back as he leaves, even as the Riddler bleeds out behind him.

He leaves...

But the Riddler does not question the three masked men who rescue him later that night. 

And a few months later, he receives word that the Penguin has accepted his terms.

They are allies once more.

|||

It's only a year or so later when they almost get caught by the city's newest (and by far most annoying) vigilante. Thankfully, "Batman" is still inexperienced.

Penguin's favorite henchman, Gabe, presses the pedal to the metal, and the getaway car speeds off.

The Riddler doesn't realizes that both he and Penguin are cackling until they stop at the Iceberg Lounge, fully established only a few months ago. Gabe heads inside before the infamous duo even get out of the car.

The Riddler looks over at his... not friend, but no longer enemy, and scoffs. "What kind of name is _Batman?_

Penguin tries to keep from snorting with laughter, chokes during the attempt, and before either of them realize it, they're giggling hopelessly from relief and exhilaration.

"It's been forever since I had such a close call," Penguin admits, "I feel thirty-one again."

"I don't know what this man was thinking. Who's going to take someone named Batman seriously?"

More giggles consume them.

"Obviously I'm not scared of him, and don't plan to be." The Riddler calms himself a bit, leaning back against the leather seat. "Do you want to know something that did used to scare me?"

Penguin looks at him strangely. "Alright."

"I'm sorry, Oswald."

Silence. Penguin must know what he means. He hasn't tried to carve out the Riddler's intestines for using his name, though, so it must mean he's thinking hard.

"Would you like to know something that used to scare me too?"

"Yes."

"I forgive you, Ed."

|||

Edward Nygma is in love with Oswald Cobblepot.

He will never, ever say it, but he gets the feeling that Oswald knows too.

It's in the quiet moments after a heist, the occasional dinners at the mansion to discuss plans. 

But they can't be together.

They have hurt each other too much. Any way they look at it, their love is tainted. It's real and true and beautiful, but tainted all the same.

Ed doesn't live at the mansion anymore. Oswald hasn't offered, and Edward hasn't asked. There is too much suffering in this old place for both of them to bear it. 

When he looks at Oswald, his heart hurts as he thinks of what could have been. The greatest love story that was never told. Sealed with a bullet instead of a kiss.

They can't completely heal what they once had. The lies and pain surface sometimes, and they have to be apart for a while. But when they are together, oh, how it hurts to be so close but so very far away.

Oswald doesn't hug him anymore. They have never once kissed. Even holding hands is a line that Edward dares not cross.

There was a time when it would have been possible. He mourns for the lost chances.

It takes years, it takes life-threatening injuries, it takes more betrayal and loss and grief, but they reach a point where they can understand each other.

Only once does he nearly cave. Edward stops by more often, because his old friend's leg is growing weaker by the day.

They are sipping tea, seated on opposite couches.

"Oswald, I need to tell you something." Edward does not fidget, but he does shift in his seat for optimal comfort, of course.

"Of course, what is it?" Oswald is attentive, setting his teacup down.

"You have every right to laugh in my face," he says, and now his words tumble, an avalanche of confessions that he has locked away for too long. "But I have to tell you. Oswald, I-"

"Don't."

Ed stares in shock. Oswald's eyes are brimming with tears. "Oswald," he says again.

"Stop it, Ed. I know what you're going to say. I know, and I..." he takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I feel it too. I always have. But we _can't._ You're too smart to believe that after everything, we could do this. So don't you _dare_ say you love me."

So he doesn't.


End file.
